


Remember

by RyuuMasken



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyuuMasken/pseuds/RyuuMasken
Summary: An innocuous question sets off a cascade in Futaba's mind. She presses forward against the crushing pain of her own memory, desperate to recover something important.Spoilers for Royal/third semester.
Relationships: Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakura Futaba
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Remember

There was an itch in Futaba’s brain. It started as a tiny twinge, something that came up as she listened to Sojiro and her mother reminisce about their high school days. Once the conversation turned to old romances, the question became inevitable: “are you going to get a boyfriend, Futaba?” It wasn’t asked with expectation, really, more just prodding to see if she was even interested in general. Futaba avoided giving an answer, but not out of embarrassment or shyness. She was guided by a tickle in her mind, a vague feeling she couldn’t place.

Dinner passed without further prodding. She returned to her room and attempted to finish her schoolwork, but throughout the hours, the twinge grew and grew until it became an all consuming, insatiable itch. Why did that question make her feel so weird? She thought it through, trying to answer it herself. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in relationships… but more that… she shouldn’t? Or that she couldn’t? But why couldn’t she? What was stopping her?

She had the time for it, after all. Her grades were fine. Honestly, the idea of sitting with someone she liked playing old video games on a crappy CRT TV didn’t seem so bad to her at all. So what was stopping her? It’s not like anxiety was an issue…. anymore? Wait.

She stopped herself, a light throb pulsing through her mind. Anxiety? Did she used to have anxiety issues? Unconsciously, she moved a hand to her forehead. When? Maybe… it was when she was a kid and she just forgot about it? Maybe when she saw Kana-chan’s journal… What was on those pages, again? Another throb echoed through her mind. Abuse. Futaba shook her head. But Kana-chan loved her parents. They had a great relationship, ever since…

The thought never completed. Ever since what? Futaba reached into her memory again and again, only finding a void. Something happened, right? She felt like… no, she knew that something had happened between Kana and her parents, but what was it? Futaba felt like she should know… that she was involved somehow. She was, wasn’t she? She did something with--

A searing pain shot through her mind, and she clutched her head in her hands. Her pulse began to race and the room started to spin. She couldn’t breathe. The itch in her mind started to hurt, becoming a regular throb. She tried to control her breathing, but she couldn’t. The room was getting smaller. She wanted to curl up into a ball, but…

This panic was new to her, but strangely familiar. She knew if she curled up into a ball, it would consume her. She had to move. She had to do something. Hands shaking, she pushed herself away from her unfinished schoolwork and stood on wobbling legs. One step at a time, she walked forward, only dimly paying attention to her surroundings. Once she had made it downstairs, she grabbed her coat before stumbling out into the night.

The chill air brought back some of her senses, but her chest was still wrenched tight. Maybe… she just needed to talk a walk around the block. Yeah. That would calm her down for sure. She tried to take a deep breath and moved on. Thankfully, the streets of Yongen were as empty as they ever were at night. She tried to clear her mind, but the itch throbbed and ached. There was something… important. She knew she couldn’t let go of it, no matter what. She just wanted the pain to disappear, but she had to hold on to it. But why?

Blearily, she looked up from her feet. Where was she? Oh, Leblanc. When did she get here? It was closed, but… the smell of the cafe always helped calm her down. The smell that was always on Sojiro and--a pain shot through her again. Futaba crumpled forward against the door of Leblanc, barely holding herself up. She dug around in her pocket for her keys, pulled out the spare Sojiro had given her--just in case--and, through quaking hands, got the key into the lock and pushed through the door.

Her steps immediately faltered and she collapsed into one of the booths, resting her head against the cold tabletop. The ache was immeasurable, pulsing through her whole body, as if she was going to split in two from top to bottom. She took a breath, letting the smells of coffee beans and curry spices flow through her. She remembered… she could always smell this scent on Sojiro, but when she smelled it for real the first time… She remembered walking into Leblanc. For some reason, Sojiro was so surprised. His jaw was practically on the floor. The image almost made her laugh, but her head hurt too much. Next to Sojiro… she raised her head, looking at the countertop and empty stools. Next to Sojiro… on that stool--more pain. She clasped her head again, but… this time, it wasn’t just pain. She felt… a little warm, too. She remembered… a cold cup of coffee.

Futaba pushed herself up from the table and leaned back in the booth. What was it that was so important? She… missed something. She forced her eyes open, her gaze moving randomly about the empty cafe. What did she miss? Or… who? Was it a person? Her eyes moved towards the back of the cafe, almost as if her subconscious was moving them for her. The stairs… Wait… Were there stairs in Leblanc? She couldn’t remember clearly anymore. She struggled to her feet and staggered to the back. There were stairs leading up into an unnaturally dark attic. Were they always here? Futaba had eaten dinner here more times than she could count, but she couldn’t recall seeing those stairs before. Yet, at the same time… she could remember walking up and down these stairs again and again. She cast a look back towards the front door of Leblanc. She couldn’t explain how but she knew… if she walked through that door, the pain would stop. All she had to do was leave, and everything would be better. But… her head ached and her heart twisted as she cast her gaze back towards the stairs. But then she wouldn’t know what was so important. If she turned away now… she might lose it forever. She had to know, no matter how much it hurt.

She leaned on the rail as she climbed, the stairs creaking underneath her. The distinct smell of the cafe mingled with the smell of old dust. The darkness in front of her writhed, an unnatural curtain pulling back with each step forward she took. For some reason, despite the pain, she wasn’t scared. It felt so familiar. It felt…

She reached the top of the stairs. While she could make out the general shape of the room, the darkness obscured the details. She felt as if she was looking at an old, decayed photo. She took a moment to steady herself against a table. She could see that the ground was so thick with dust that her movements left footprints. As she tried to catch her breath she noticed that her footprints weren’t the only ones. There were others, the same size as hers, but much older leading deeper into the room. She pushed herself off of the table, meaning to follow them, but a clatter pulled her attention away as she noticed that she had accidentally knocked over Morgana’s old food bowl.

Futaba cried out in pain as a burning pain shot through her body. She knew that bowl was Morgana’s, but… Morgana was human, not a cat. But… Morgana was a cat… not a human? She could remember both so clearly, her memories melting together into an incomprehensible mess. A sense of urgency crept over her and a cold sweat broke out over her body. She had to keep moving. There wasn’t much time left.

A few more stumbling steps and a table with an old TV and game system appeared in front of her. She recalled… competition. No, that wasn’t entirely right. She just wanted to be better. To improve herself. To give her all in everything. Another step forward. She remembered Akihabara… buying a figurine of a character she liked. She was happy to buy it, of course, but… she was happy because she was proud of herself for doing it. And she was happy… because there was someone else she wanted to show it to. The pain became so intense that her ears started to ring, and the warmth she had felt earlier grew stronger, filling her chest. She used the pain to push herself forward.

A couch. She could remember someone touching her head, like her mom used to… but very different. She paused for a moment. Used to… That’s right. Futaba had just gotten a pat the other day but… her mom didn’t pat her head anymore, no matter how much she wanted her to. Memories clashed in conflict again. So much time with her mother… and so, so much time without her. That’s right… she was saved. He came for her…  
Her gaze turned towards the corner of the room, shrouded in darkness. Brow furrowed, covered in sweat, she took step after step forward. The darkness slinking away was so thick and heavy that she could swear she could hear the wood creaking underneath it. She could see a bed… there was someone in it. She staggered forward, her legs trembling and her knees buckling, she stumbled and fell at the side of the bed. She could see a tuft of fluffy black hair. Shaking, Futaba reached forward and pulled the blankets back, revealing a sleeping boy about her age… maybe a little older. She reached forward and brushed her fingers against his face, the itch in her mind finally subsiding.

“R… en…?” The name was barely a whisper. A cascade of memories rushed from within her, painfully stitching themselves back together. Medjed… Okumura… Shido… Bit by bit, everything came flooding back. She remembered the end, the hesitation. Questioning if what they were doing was the right thing. Their final target…

“Now, Futaba,” a calm, caring voice came from behind her. “This can’t keep happening.”

Futaba turned towards the voice and shrank, crumpling further against the bed, her breath still short and pain still coursing through her body. “Dr… Maruki…”

Maruki glided forward, a serene smile on his face. “It’s alright, don’t worry. Just come with me and everything will be better again.” He reached a hand out towards her.

“No… Stay… away…!” Futaba twisted around and reached towards Ren. “Ren…! Ren…! Please…! Wake up!” She shook him, and though his body was warm and he continued to breathe, he did not respond.

“Ren will be okay,” Maruki spoke again, as if Futaba’s worry was about Ren’s health. “He just needs to rest. Once his heart is no longer caught between peace and rebellion, he will awaken once again. But, until then…”

Futaba shook Ren harder. “Ren! Please!” Her voice gained in strength as her memories returned to their rightful places. She could almost hear Al-Azif again. If Ren woke up, surely the two of them could…! She screamed again. “Ren!”

“Please,” Maruki continued. “Just enjoy the life you have.”

Something clamped onto the back of Futaba’s neck and a white hot, sharp pain shot into the base of her skull. She could feel everything slipping away again. No… She didn’t want to forget… Her vision began to blur and darken as something pulled her away. She tried to hold onto Ren, but the force was too strong. Her grip fell from his shoulders… pulled down to his arm… for a brief instant, did he squeeze her hand? She had to hold on. She had to… remember…

Please… don’t…

  
  
  


let… go…

  
  
  
  
  
  


of… me…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Ren…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Futaba awoke in her room. She had some sort of strange dream… she reached for her phone as she tried to recall the details. She yawned and looked at the numbers on the display, then shot straight out of bed. Crap! She was late! No time to think about her dream! She rushed to her desk and scooped her completed schoolwork into her bag, threw on her uniform in record time and bolted downstairs. Today was a new day!


End file.
